It’s cold, soul-crushingly cold. Ice cracks beneath my feet as the mist thickens. It’s quiet too, the kind of quiet that keeps you awake for no reason whatsoever while you rack your brain for ways to fall back into blissful unconsciousness, because you drank the last of your bourbon at that stupid party the other night. Better you drink it than someone else, who will just mix it with some inferior shit.

My breath turns crystalline, swirling in the air as I wander farther onto the frozen lake, deep gashes in the ice tell me it’s a new freeze, but I don’t care, I need quiet this morning. The noise of the city, the incessant cacophony of taxis, cell phones, yelling, and that damn hip hop music that those kids blare on the subway, even the memory of it all makes the bile rise in my throat.

The mountains on the far side of the lake turn crimson as dawn begins her final approach, the mist becomes a golden fog that permeates the air, saturating every bit of color. Every fractal of ice, every fiber of my worn denim jacket gives off a preternatural radiance, and for a brief few moments the spectral landscape is transfigured into a violent rainbow.

The mist begins to slowly rise, but rather that dissipate, it hangs in the air like a doomed man on a gallows, still alive, still kicking, making a last stand of defiance against the rising sun, it’s executioner. I take a step and the ice shifts with a muffled crack. The dawn is seconds away, anticipation rises like Lazarus from the dead, confused, scared, shrouded.